Antebellum BK 1 (70 page)

Jackson looked at him for a long time before answering. “I think your point is well taken and I shall request permission from the Confederacy before amending the training agenda. I will, however, encourage all to pray in their own way and to attend services when practical.”

Johnny stayed silent.

“
You are dismissed, sir. Your absence is excused. There will be no punishment.”

“
Thank you, sir.” Johnny saluted.

Jackson nodded and picked up his pen. “If the Confederacy does not maintain separation of church and state your resignation will be put forth post haste.”

Johnny left the tent, untied his horse and led him toward the waiting Jeb Stuart.

“
Well?” Stuart asked.

“
He excused me.”

“
Good. What do you think of him?”

“
All I care about is how well he leads troops,” Johnny replied.

“
We’re about to find out,” Stuart said. “The Yankees are preparing to attack Richmond.”

“
What are our orders?”

“
To proceed at best speed to Manassas Junction to reconnoiter.”

“
Just us?”

“
As far as I know, we are the only cavalry in the entire Confederacy.”

“
My horse is done in and I don’t have a remount here.”

“
You can ride one of mine.”

“
Do I have time to get something to eat?”

“
Yes. The mess tent is there.” He pointed. “Give me your horse and I’ll have your remount waiting when you finish. You might wash your face too and make yourself a bit more presentable. We have an image to create.”

June 30, 1861

Washington, D.C.

Q
uincy Van Buskirk was standing in front of the office of Lieutenant General Winfield Scott, holding the reins of two dusty horses and watching the comings and goings at the War Department across the street. He hardly noticed a carriage that turned from Pennsylvania Avenue onto Seventeenth Street until it stopped and the Isinglass side curtain rolled up.

“
You look like a lost boy,” Anna called from the carriage.

Quincy led the horses closer. “Hello, Mother. I hoped that I might see you here.”

“
What is it that you’re doing?”

“
Waiting for Colonel Sherman.” He gestured toward the building behind him. “General Scott ordered us here for some as yet unknown purpose.”

“
Rumor has it that this war will be over soon.”

Quincy chuckled. “It hasn’t even begun.”

Anna leaned out the window and gestured at all the martial activity. “When the Southern leadership sees what we have in store for them they’ll quickly sue for peace.”

“
If you could see the army that’s forming on the other side of the river you might not be so confident, Mother.”

“
Posh. A ragtag army of shoeless boys and old men.”

“
You shouldn’t believe your own propaganda, Mother.”

“
You’ve been talking to Johnny,” she said in an accusatory tone.

“
I haven’t seen him since Virginia seceded.”

“
I’m late right now, but I’d love to talk to you some more. How long will you be here?”

“
I have no idea. How can I reach you?”

“
I have an office at the White House. I’ll tell the guards to expect you.”

“
If I can’t attend, I’ll send a note.”

“
Very well. Driver, drive on.”

Quincy stepped back away from the wheels and watched as his mother’s bejeweled hand reached out the window to wave farewell.

“
You seem to have an important friend,” Colonel William T. Sherman said. He took the reins of his horse from Quincy.

“
My mother,” Quincy replied dismissively. “What’s the news, sir?”

Sherman shrugged. “General Scott has informed the Congress and the President that the army is not ready. Congress, however, wants this over so they can get back to business and has demanded that he attack immediately. They even have issued an official battle cry: On to Richmond.”

“
And our role, sir?”

“
To take command of a brigade.” Sherman slapped him on the back. “You will be my Adjutant General.”

July 2, 1861

Manassas Junction, Virginia

C
olonel Jeb Stuart skipped down the steps of General Beauregard’s headquarters, put his hat on at a jaunty angle and adjusted the ostrich plume. “Do you know a General John Patterson?”

“
Did he serve in Mexico?” Johnny asked. He handed the reins of Stuart’s horse to him.

“
I don’t know.”

“
There was a Major General John Patterson from Pennsylvania in Mexico,” Johnny said.

“
Any good?”

“
I don’t know. Why?”

“
He’s taken Martinsburg,” Stuart replied, stepping into the stirrup and mounting.

“
How bad was it?”

“
Not bad.” Stuart urged his horse forward. “Jackson’s orders were to delay Patterson, not to try to stop him. The question now is which way will Patterson turn?”

“
Does that cut Jackson off from us?”

Stuart shook his head. “Beauregard says no.”

“
What are our orders?”

“
To continue to assess Yankee troop strength.”

“
What about Fitz?” Johnny asked. “Did you ask him about Fitz?”

“
Fitz Lee’s troop will remain with Rooney Lee’s regiment in the Shenandoah Valley while we patrol here and assess troop strength as ordered.”

“
We can’t provide an accurate troop assessment until General Scott commits some units to the field,” Johnny said. “Counting flags in Washington is a useless endeavor.”

“
It’s said that General Scott isn’t in favor of an attack until the army’s better trained,” Stuart said. “Do you know him?”

“
General Scott?” Johnny nodded. “Yes. Very well. He’s a close friend of our family.”

“
What’s your unvarnished opinion of him?”

Johnny considered his words before replying. “He is a fine old man who has served his country well – but now he’s too old and too fat to command an army. Lincoln will replace him as soon as he’s become familiar with the current officer corps.”

Stuart pointed over his shoulder. “That’s exactly what Beauregard just told me.”

“
I’d be surprised if he disagreed. He knows everyone’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“
Jackson did well in his organized retreat. He’ll get a star soon, I wager.”

“
Does that worry you?”

“
Frankly, I don’t trust the man. He has some very strange habits and beliefs.”

“
You mean his religious habits?” Johnny asked.

“
No. I mean personal habits. For example, he holds one hand in the air and sits straight up all the time. He says it promotes blood flow and keeps the internal organs properly aligned.” Stuart chuckled. “Oh, and he never puts pepper on anything. He says it makes his left leg weak.”

“
I’ve only seen the man for a matter of minutes, Beauty, and he didn’t hold his hand in the air or refuse pepper during that time.”

“
Well.” Stuart untied his horse. “Let’s go see if the Yankees are going to do something interesting.”

July 15, 1861

Centreville, Virginia

C
aptain Quincy Van Buskirk rode his horse into the blackberry patch and slapped at a soldier with the flat of his sword. “You men get back on the road and into formation. This isn’t a bloody picnic.”

Grumbling, the soldiers climbed the bank and fell back into the ragged column.

Quincy turned his horse and proceeded along the embankment, chivying men who were resting or drinking, until he reached the color guard of Sherman’s brigade.

Sherman saw him and waved at him to come back.

Quincy urged his horse up the incline and fell in beside Sherman. “This isn’t an army,” Quincy complained, “it’s a collection of unwashed, untrained, and undisciplined rabble.”

“
They’ll learn the hard way,” Sherman replied.

“
They’ll run like rabbits when the first shot’s fired. I’d like to meet the brilliant bastard that decided on these thirty-day enlistments.”

“
He’s back there in the White House. Maybe your mother can arrange an introduction.”

Quincy looked at Sherman. “Do you really think so, sir? Is it possible that the President actually believes that we can put down the rebellion in a month?”

“
No. But the thirty-day enlistments give him thirty more days to convince the country to get behind the war effort.”

“
Buying time with blood doesn’t strike me as…” He shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I’ll shut up.”

“
Tell me something, Captain. Aren’t you in the least bit nervous about seeing the elephant for the first time?”

Quincy looked surprised by the question. “The elephant? You mean combat? I’ve been in many battles, sir.”

“
Where? When?”

“
In Texas. We’ve had a hard fight with the Comanches, Lipan Apaches and Kiowa for most of my life. I was brought up inside a stockade.”

“
Oh, yes. I suppose that’s like being in real combat.”

Quincy laughed. “If you’ll forgive me, sir. Until you’ve withstood a Comanche attack, you’ve not seen real combat. A small Comanche war party would cut Beauty Stuart’s vaunted cavalry to ribbons.”

“
I’m told that your cousin, Thomas’s boy, is with Stuart.”